


One Inch to the Left

by shrift



Series: Sports Night Fanworks [16]
Category: Sports Night
Genre: Challenge fic, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-19
Updated: 2008-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrift/pseuds/shrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Danny is blocked, Casey is just trying to be helpful, suggestive comments are made about handsome professional athletes, and we contemplate the didgeridoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Inch to the Left

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Putting the Sports Back in Sports Night](http://community.livejournal.com/sportsbackinsn/) challenge, for the prompt: _Sabres and Penguins play the NHL Winter Classic, an outdoor contest._
> 
> Beta by Nestra.

"I'm blocked," Danny moaned. His head thumped against the computer desk.

"You're not blocked," Casey said. He reached into the mini-refrigerator and crossed the office, putting a beer next to Danny's elbow. Upon further consideration, he moved it several inches to the left and out of flailing distance.

"Dude," Danny said, and pointed to the computer monitor without lifting his head. Danny had written, "Hockey is a game of|"

"Chance? Remarkable skill? Beauty and violence?"

"It's hockey. I blame it," Danny said, his voice muffled by the desk. "It's always hockey. The ice steals my words; the cold leeches my soul. My inspiration is out of the game on a match penalty."

Casey clapped his hand on Danny's shoulder. "See, you're not blocked."

Danny turned his head and glared up at Casey. There was an ovoid of red on his forehead. "You're not helping."

"What's the story?" Casey asked, pulling the extra chair away from the other desk and sitting next to Danny.

"The Sabres and the Penguins played an outdoor game at Ralph Wilson Stadium on the first day of the new year. It was cold and historic. Pens won 2-1. The end."

Casey sipped his beer. "You could watch some tape."

"I've been watching tape," Danny said. He sat up and kicked away from the desk, his knee bumping against Casey's thigh.

"We could pretend to watch tape and make out in the editing room instead," Casey suggested.

Danny startled so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair and into Casey's lap. "What? We. You -- what?"

"Feeling inspired now?" Casey asked.

Danny's eyes and mouth were wide open. "What was that?"

Casey shrugged. "It works on hiccups. I figured it couldn't hurt to try it on inspiration."

"Have you switched bodies with Natalie?" Danny asked suspiciously. "Natalie, is that you?"

"No."

"You could be lying to me. Natalie would lie."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Does Natalie know that you once had a dream about Tom Waits in which you told him that you wanted to have his --"

"Fine! I believe you." Danny narrowed his eyes. "Have you been taking ginseng pills again?"

"No."

"Sex with Sally?"

"No!"

Danny tapped his hand on the desk three times and then snapped his fingers. "You're _bored_."

Casey wilted. "I'm so bored. I finished my half of the script almost an hour ago and I have nothing to do."

"I'm playing the world's smallest violin for you right now," Danny said. "Listen: can you hear it?"

"Come on, let me help," Casey said.

"No, no," Danny said. "I don't need your pity."

Danny hit the backspace key and erased his five pitiful words, then started again, typing steadily.

Casey drank more beer and surreptitiously attempted to peer over Danny's shoulder. "You dropped a verb, used the incorrect transitional phrase, and misspelled --"

"Casey!" Danny said. "Stop helping or I will tell our entire viewing audience that you think the rail camera has revolutionized the sport of hockey."

"You wouldn't," Casey said.

"Oh ho," Danny said, raising his index finger.

"What does that even mean?" Casey asked.

"It means I have keys to your apartment and the dedication it would take to move everything you own exactly one inch to the left."

Casey opened his mouth to retort but somehow resisted the impulse, instead relocating to the couch to flip through Dan's copy of _Esquire_.

"It snowed during the game. It's difficult to push the puck through that," Casey said after a few minutes. "Record attendance. Over 70,000."

Danny grunted and kept typing.

"Did you know that it was the first NHL regular-season outdoor game played in the U.S.?"

"I did," Danny said grimly.

"It ended in a shootout," Casey said. "Crosby really --"

"Casey!" Danny yelled, slamming his hands down on the desk, but then an evil look came over his face and Danny steepled his fingers. "You want to make out with me in the editing room."

Casey laughed it off. "I do not."

"Yes, but you mentioned it."

"I mentioned it to disturb you."

Danny nodded. "But you had to think about it first. Consider it. It has now entered the universe as an idea."

Casey looked down at _Esquire_. Johnny Depp stared back. He was an unfairly attractive man, and Casey wished he hadn't noticed that. "There are other ways to avoid writing, you know."

"And yet none are nearly as entertaining as tormenting you," Danny said.

Casey flipped through the magazine. Eric Clapton touted the benefits of learning to keep his mouth shut. Casey wished he'd read that article earlier.

"Casey," Danny said. He stood and skirted the computer desk, looming over Casey.

Casey felt a little light-headed suddenly, refusing to look Danny in the eye. "Did you know the Winter Classic was the highest-rated NHL game in the U.S. since '96?"

Danny kicked Casey's foot. "Hey."

Casey turned the magazine around to show Danny the new rules for 2008, inanely saying, "Didgeridoo."

"I'll get you one for Christmas," Danny said.

"You're Jewish."

Danny kicked Casey's foot again. "You're not."

"They won't be in style next Christmas," Casey argued.

"Didgeridoos are always in style."

"I don't understand why you're the cool one."

"My coolness is ineffable," Danny said. "Look at me, Casey."

Casey tossed aside the magazine and spread his hands. "What do you want from me?"

Danny bit his lip and then sat down next to Casey. Very seriously, he said, "I want you to make out with me in the editing room."

"How amusing," Casey said. "I don't think so."

"You're an idiot," Danny sighed.

"Hey!"

"Sidney Crosby's pretty cute," Danny said, heaving himself off the couch. He waggled his eyebrows. "We should try to get him on the show."

"He's an _half your age_, Daniel," Casey said indignantly.

Even Danny's shrug was a louche motion. "You had your chance, old man."

"That's it. We're going to the editing room right now," Casey said, standing up and dragging Danny out of the office by his wrist.

"Where are you going?" Dana asked as they passed her.

"We need to review some footage," Casey said.

"Well, make it snappy," she said, peering over the top of her glasses. "Rundown in fifteen."

"This won't take long," Casey said.

"That's what _she_ said," Kim said. Dave cracked up and high-fived her.

Casey ignored their antics and pulled Danny into the editing room, locking the door behind them and yanking the blinds closed.

"Right," Casey said. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands. "Let's do this thing."

Danny eyed him. "Is this a mid-life crisis or a sexual identity crisis you're having right now?"

"It can't be both?"

Danny crossed his arms and slouched against the door. "I grant you that it can."

Dryly, Casey said, "Thanks."

"Why do you want to make out with me?" Danny asked.

"I really couldn't say," Casey said. The fact was that he didn't know how to say it, that his friendships with Dana and Danny were the longest and best relationships of his life; that he'd crashed and burned with Dana before they ever really got off the ground, and yet somehow they had remained close. Danny had been there for him through all of it. Danny loved Casey's kid. And because Danny had a terribly distracting mouth.

Danny's lips thinned into an unpleasant line. "Okay. This was fun. Let's not do it again."

Casey made his living with words, but at heart he was a man of action, and so he put his hands on Danny's shoulders and kissed him. Danny's lips were warm and soft. Casey followed when Danny shifted back against the door.

"What are you doing?" Danny murmured, his lips brushing against Casey's mouth.

"Trying to make out with you," Casey said, and kissed him again. Danny liked kissing and Casey knew it. He'd seen Danny kiss women at parties and at bars, his eyes closed, lips wet, and the way women would curl into him whenever Danny angled his head and opened his mouth. Maybe it had taken Casey a long time to figure out why he'd been paying so much attention.

The whole thing was worth it when Danny started kissing him back. Danny pushed his tongue into Casey's mouth and scratched his blunt nails over Casey's nape, guiding Casey closer with a hand on his hip. Casey pressed Danny against the door and kissed him until his lips tingled and his body itched for more, until he was about three seconds away from unzipping his pants and asking Danny if there was anything else he wanted to do with his mouth. They were both breathing fast, and Danny pushed his hands up Casey's sweater while Casey pressed his mouth to Danny's neck. He gently scraped his teeth over the thick muscle of Danny's shoulder where the loose collar of his old sweatshirt left it exposed.

The rap on the door startled them both badly. Danny narrowly avoided kneeing Casey in the groin and Casey bit down on Danny's neck. He hoped that it wouldn't bruise or swell enough that makeup would ask them what the hell they'd been doing.

"Rundown meeting!" Natalie yelled through the door.

"Okay!" Danny yelled back.

"We're all wondering what you're doing in there!" Natalie yelled some more.

"Casey was having a crisis about his advanced age!"

"Hey!" Casey protested.

"Well, tell grandpa to get over himself and then get his saggy butt into the conference room!" Natalie said. She rattled the door handle.

"My butt is not saggy," Casey said. "Tell me it's not saggy."

Danny groped him. "Feels pretty spectacular to me."

Casey grinned. "That's what you said."

Danny rolled his eyes and then smiled as he reached behind his back to unlock the door. "You are possibly the lamest person I know, Casey."

"I'm so cool, I'm Mr. Freeze," Casey said.

"Back me up here, Natalie," Danny said as he opened the door.

"Totally lame," Natalie said. "Schwarzenegger jokes haven't been cool since 1991."

"Don't we have a rundown meeting to attend?" Casey asked.

Natalie stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to look over their shoulders. "Were you even watching tape in there?"

"We were checking the Winter Classic shootout highlights again," Danny said, turning around to herd her out of the editing room.

"Ooh, Crosby," Natalie said with a downright salacious tone.

Casey wanted to say, "Et tu?" but contented himself with asking, "Can we at least pretend to be sports journalism professionals?"

Elliott came down the hallway. "Dana wants to know why the first team isn't in the conference room."

"I'm on it," Natalie said. She reached up and grabbed Casey and Danny by the ears. "Let's go, boys."

They shuffled to the conference room as if they were participating in the world's most awkward three-legged race.

"Nice of you to join us, gentlemen," Dana said when Natalie pulled them into the conference room. "What took you so long?"

"We were debating the merits of the didgeridoo," Casey said.

Danny rubbed his ear and laughed.


End file.
